Screen Shot 2016-02-24 at 1.08.15 PM“You remind me of my friend, like you could be her twin.  You are exactly the same, before she turned girly-girl.”

I like to believe that there is a reason why I don’t fit in this societal construct of what it means to be a girl.  Alright, not so much believe as to blame it on the fact that I was not allowed to have a Barbie until I was 13.  I mean, I was given Barbies, but I was not allowed to open them and play with them until I was much older.  During my primal years of development, I missed out on the physical experience of Barbie playing.  Yup!  And that is the result of why I am like this today, because I was not allowed to play with Barbies until later in life.  Not to say it’s a bad thing, I just like to use it as an excuse for not being a “girly-girl,” as they like to call it.  That, and because it still bothers me to this day that once I was allowed to play with Barbies, the rules changed and my younger sisters were allowed to play with them at a much younger age.  Yeah, you know what?  I think that’s what bothers me most.  Not the fact that I missed out on Barbie playing, but the fact that my sisters got to play with Barbies earlier!

That escalated quickly, BUT just because I didn’t get to play with Barbies does not define the way I act and who I am today.  What has defined the way I act and who I am today, is the fact that I got the lower end of the stick of the deal.  Who isn’t allowed to play with Barbies until they’re 13?






The Way I Feel Is Inevitable

Before the start of my sophomore year of High School, I told myself that this would be my year. The year where I would be more outspoken, and show others that in one summer I had transformed into this confident lady.  But the truth was, I just wanted to prove to myself that I could be like everyone else: have an opinion, be heard, get noticed.  Because in reality, I did not have anyone to prove this new and glorious self to.  If I was not heard or noticed the year before, how could my fellow sophomore class know that my quiet and dry personality had evolved exponentially?

The first step was to participate in class more.  However, that did not work out so well.  This is because in all of my classes, I had no idea what was going on.  Every question that the teacher asked, I had no idea how to answer it.  If I did, there was always someone else who would speak up before me and steal my answer! (because mind-readers exist).  Or, if I did know the answer, I would end up being wrong.  For example, in one of my classes we were playing Jeopardy.  A question was stated and I knew the answer!  This was it, I would win it for my team and get noticed, be seen.  I shot up my hand so hard into the air that my desk fell forward, taking me with it, and I hit the ground with a huge “thud.”  Everyone looked at me, waiting for my answer, not caring that I had just flipped over in my desk.  I answered the game question, which ended up being wrong.  Moral of the story: Don’t participate in class.

Second semester of sophomore year, I decided to tryout for the school’s dance team.  The dance team was filled with popular girls and because I made it, I thought I had become one.  But I was just seen as the extra dancer in the back.  And in the dance team yearbook photo, everyone’s name was printed under the group picture, except mine.  I took it personally, but I guess I wasn’t that hurt about it.

As High School continued, so did I.  But this time I stopped trying to prove things.  Instead, I just went through the motions.  Not because I believe you don’t always have to prove something to yourself or others, but because others could sense when you’re trying too hard.  It’s like everyone is Spider-Man and has their spidey-senses tingling.  High School is a time where everyone wants to fit it, and I was trying so hard to fit in everywhere.  I was trying to be like everyone else, and wasn’t getting anywhere.  So might as well stay unnoticed, but as me.

Overthinking: Good or Bad?

Just a little update on where I’ve been, other than stressing over the fact that I’m trying to find myself a full time job, because I want those benefits, man!  Recently I blogged about leaving an interview unsatisfied with my performance.  Turns out, I was overthinking it, because I got the part time job!!  I’m totally stoked, and after after the fact, I now see that I had nothing to worry about.  Talk about an ego boost.  But now I’m overthinking the way I’m thinking.

Is it bad that I’m telling myself “see, you had nothing to worry about,” because I got the job, when in that moment when I left the interview, I was totally beating myself down?  I know it seems like I’ll never be happy, but I want to be there for myself.  I want to be there not only when something good happens, but also when something bad happens.  I want to make sure that I can tell myself “you have nothing to worry about,” or “everything is going to be okay,” even when I feel (or it seems) like it’s not going to be, and believe it.  Overthinking things can be good or bad.  It’s there so I can be dramatic about my life, and practice “the struggle” for when I get my own reality TV show.  But honestly, I hope that one day, with my ability to overthink things, I can keep up the confidence in myself to be successful in anything I do.

아, 진짜? “Oh, really?”

I am not so much a big fan of Kpop and Kdramas, as I am a bigger fan of their innovative hairstyles, colorful clothes, and amazing beauty products (basically, I’m obsessed with everyone’s complexion).  I’ve watched more than enough Kdramas to get the gist of what certain phrases stand for, and what different words mean.  In fact, I took a whole quarter learning the Korean language, because I was so inspired to one day star in my own Kdrama.  With luck on my side, my Korean class had an end of the year project where we had to do a skit…about anything we wanted!  My group decided to create a video that showcased all of Kdrama’s cliches.  Sooooo, I guess you can say my wish came true!

Disclaimer: I am not a native Korean speaker.  My wardrobe does not showcase the awesomeness of Kdrama attire, in the slightest.  Also,  I should invest in Korean beauty products, so I can get clear and glowing skin!


I wish I was a kid again.  I wish I was still cute and never lost interest in wearing sparkly and brightly colored shoes.  I wish I still had that no care attitude, and that imagination that told me I can be and do whatever I want.  I wish I was still bliss with ignorance, and I wish I still had that want and fascination to know what the world can offer me.  However, I do not wish to be a kid all the time, because I don’t wish to still have a bedtime.  Let it be known, I love my sleep.  I sleep at every chance I get, but I don’t know how much I would like it if someone still told me that I had to go to bed at a certain time.

The Day I Was Promised A Bunny

tbtWhen I was 9 years old, my family and I went to a pumpkin patch.  The pumpkin patch had a petting zoo.  Actually, it was more like a petting farm, because it was basically a gated area with lots of farm animals.  Besides the typical goats, this “petting farm” had rabbits.  Dwarf bunnies to be exact.  I remember holding one in my arms and it fell asleep.  At that point, I knew I wanted a bunny for a pet.

There I am to the left, holding the bunny from the petting farm in my arms.  Now that I look at it closely, the bunny looks scared.  Maybe it pretended to fall asleep, in order to calm itself down from the anxiety of being held by a kid.

I asked my mom if I could get a pet bunny of my own.  She said that if I learned about bunnies and how to take care of them, I could get one.  So I found myself at the library researching all the books I could find about bunnies and how to take care of them.  I photocopied all the books I found (I guess I didn’t know what a library card was, because I could’ve just helped save the environment for my future kids by checking out the books and taking down notes on recycled paper or something).  After all that research, I decided that a floppy eared bunny was the bunny I wanted to get.  I knew that I wanted to have a boy bunny, and name him Pinocchio (I also had this slight obsession with Pinocchio at the time.  I owned 3 different types of Pinocchio marionettes, a small Pinocchio figurine, and a Pinocchio pencil holder…yes, when I like something, I end up going all out).

I did it!  I had done my research.  You could call me a pro at this point.  I was ready to be a pet owner…

In the end…after alllll this…I never got my bunny.

Technology and Chain Letters

The dance team I am on hosts an annual Cabin Trip.  At this Cabin Trip, we exchange gifts with our Secret Cabin Buddy.  This game is eerily similar to the game Secret Santa.  On the day of the big reveal, my Secret Cabin Buddy got me incense, my favorite candy, a sweater, and last but not least, Chromecast.  Which was a big “ooo” and “aaaah” moment.  I said “ooo” and “aaaah” just to belong…but to be honest, I had the slightest idea as to what this Chromecast was.  I’ll have you all know, I am technologically challenged.  I can’t even figure out how to work a DVD player, let alone turn on the tv.  But some how the 4 year old that I babysit does…

My Secret Cabin Buddy tried to explain to me the purpose of Chromecast and all the cool things it can do.  Don’t get me wrong, it sounds amazing!  But I was so not into it when he was explaining how it works, because I was already dreading the installation process of that thing…and SPOILER ALERT: I tried installing it and everything went wrong.  I think I did it half correct, but I haven’t tried using it since February.  This is because I’m scared I won’t be able to figure it out, and I might just curl up into a ball and start crying, while gently rocking myself to sleep.  Sooo basically, I’ve just given up.

It’s like this one time, at band camp…jk, but seriously…this one time, when I was about 8 or 9 years old, my cousin gave me a chain letter.  (Now mind you, this was before email, so this was a hand written chain letter).  I didn’t understand what the heck a chain letter was, yet alone the meaning of the word “chain,” and the whole big symbol it represented in its actual name: “chain letter.”  I was so confused when my cousin explained it to me.  So confused, that I literally ran into the other room, laid down on the couch, and cried.  Yes, I cried!  I cried holding that measly paper in my hand.  The letter that I was supposed to copy (or re-write) and pass forward to a specific number of people.  I’ve never felt such a low in my self-esteem and self-confidence before.  Well, I can seriously share multiple instances when I’ve felt that way, but that’s for another time.  To complete the story (if you’re really wondering how it ended), I never continued the chain letter.

The story above depicts how I feel every single time I come face-to-face with technology.  Any type of technology.  We don’t have to get specific, because it’s technology as a whole that I just don’t understand.  I’m not even the most basic when it comes to being tech-savvy.  I just can’t.